Haunted
by blackheart55
Summary: Not exactly based off of the actual Mediator series, but rather my offshoot of it. About a teenage girl who falls in love with a ghost, until she has to solve his murder. Give it a chance. It's a longer series, and almost completed.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

I was starting to think my boring, average life wasn't going anywhere. I was 17, and a senior at a private school. A private _uniform wearing_ school, mind you. It was only my dad and I, up until he married about 5 months ago. Yep, just me, dad, Carol, and her two teen aged nightmares.

Currently, I was sprawled out on my massive bed staring idly at the aged ceiling. Carol had called me at least 4 times to come help with dinner, but I totally ignored her. I was to busy thinking. Thinking, and counting the faint cracked lines that ran in all directions on the ceiling. I sighed deeply; what I wouldn't give to be back at home with mom doing our nightly Pilates tape, and eating cold ramen noodles. As quickly as I let the thought enter my mind, I banished it. Mom was just to busy for a kid, and that's what I was to her, an "adolescent". Not an almost 18 year old adult. I sat up in bed, ready to make my appearance at dinner when a strange feeling came over me. You know, the one where it feels like you're being watched? That one. Although, it wouldn't really surprise me if I was, you know, being watched. In fact, for me, it's a daily -albeit- nightly occurrence.

Okay, you're probably wondering why someone would be so interested in watching me (the word boredom in the human form), and why I wasn't really surprised. To be perfectly frank, it's because I can see, and talk to ghosts. No joke, and I've been cursed with this lovely little ability since I was about 5 years old. There I was doing what every other normal 5 year old does- I was watching Barney (I know right? Barney. But cut me some slack, I was 5). I had had a feeling I wasn't alone, like I was being visited or something. And sure enough, there was my gray haired grandma sitting in the rocker watching me, knitting, and everything! Of course being 5 I was slightly confused to see her, seeing as how I had just come from her funeral not more than a few hours before, but nonetheless I toddled right up to her and began babbling. Well, my parents didn't take to that so well, they thought I was certifiably insane. But there she was! We talked as normally as we had when she was alive. Not that my parents believed me. For a while I think they thought I was just traumatized she was gone. But nope. She was definitely dead, and definitely very real to me. That's when I began to see more and more of these so called "spirits".

Well now that you know my freaky, godforsaken talent, I might as well tell you some more about myself, the things people would more or less call normal. I'm 17 years old, and if you ask me it blows. Since I turned 17 everything is going wrong. My dad remarried right after mom, and him divorced (apparently he had had an affair with her. Can you say scandal?). She's nice enough,a perfectionist to say the least, but I haven't forgiven him for marrying her so soon, and moving me across town. Oh that's another thing! My dad made me move with him all the way to Grand Rapids! Which is 3 hours from where mom, my friends, and normalcy is. So that's why I'm mad at him. He thinks it's just teen angst, PMS, and my love life (or lack thereof) that's bothering me.

Right.

So I have longish curly brown hair, and green eyes. Average. I'm also 5 foot 3 and a quarter with only a 34B bra size. Also average. In fact minus this whole ghost-busting, mediating business I'd have to say my life is all around very dull.

Which brings me back to staring at my ceiling, wondering why my life was going nowhere, but south for the winter. I had just reached a new level of boredom and self pity when I heard Carol calling for me yet again.

"Kristen Elizabeth Harding if you are not down here to help in 2 minutes I'm going to have to ground you!"

I grunted. No way could this wannabe mother tell me what to do. I was a senior, and almost 18, and I barely knew the woman. No way can she come into my life and make me do anything I didn't want to. I rolled my eyes as well as my body from my back onto my stomach, and let my head hang off the edge of my bed. My dark hair hung loosely over my head, and I stared at the wooden floor. My house was at least 300 years old so we have no carpeting. One of my dad's more brilliant ideas..buy a house with no carpet.

Idiot.

I heard someone open my creaky door just then. Looking up I saw it was my nasty 19 year old step-brother Jake. I could not _stand _him.

"Go away," I moved my head back to staring at the floor, picking out patterns in the woodwork.

He sneered, "not 'til u go downstairs. Mom wants you."

"'You're,'" I emphasized, "mom can set the table herself. Or whatever the hell it is she wants. I on the other hand, have better things to do than to be bothered with this fake "family time" you're all craving. This isn't the freakin Brady Bunch, I'll eat when I'm good and ready!"

This apparently was the wrong thing to say. "Damn it "Krissy" (he knows I loathe being called that horrible word)get your ass down there, or I'll drag you. What do you have to do that's so effing important? Wallow in your self pity?" he asked quite sarcastically.

I glared into his brown eyes. "You want it done so bad Jake the flake? Go do it yourself." He glared right back, and banged his way out of the room. I felt a little bad. I could've helped, but he made me to angry, and I honestly couldn't have cared less about dinner. I knew he was right though. I was wallowing' but I didn't need him calling me on it.

I sat up begrudgingly in bed, and looked around. It was an old room. Made sometime in the late 1700s. It gave me the creeps. We had just moved into this house about a week ago, and although I hadn't seen any yet, I knew I'd be dealing with lots of um "spectral friends" here.

I sighed deeply to myself, feeling the air reverberate around my lungs. I made to get up to go downstairs when I had that feeling again. Someone was watching me. It had left when Jake the flake came in, but in his absence it returned. I looked around the room, and shrugged. Ghost busting could wait for another day, right now all I wanted was food.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Dinner at the Harding-Thompsan home was basically a disaster that night ( like it wasn't every night since moving in). Between Jake chewing with his mouth open, and taking massive amounts of everything, and his 13 year old brother Justin trying to copy him, and feeding the dog under the table, I was disgusted. We were supposed to be eating taco salad, but between the two guys' ridiculous table manners I got mad, and flounced out of the airy, rectangular room.

I took the stairs two at a time in my haste to get away from the madness (or maybe to get the image out of my head), and and slammed my door. They were so aggravating. Leave it to dad to marry a woman who had two completely gross teen aged sons. I shudder to wonder if all our meals will end this way. I flipped my TV on which sat on my dresser, and plopped down into bed. I had just barely gotten comfortable when my first intrusion of the night occurred. There I was minding my own business, and POP! Dead guy in a business suit standing in front of me.

"Figures," I muttered, feeling my self pity party starting back up.

He was a bit of an older guy. Maybe in his mid-fifties. He was balding in the middle with wispy, graying hair on the sides. He wore a dress suit, (but it did nothing to hide his big stomach) and he carried a very expensive looking brown leather brief case. His face was a mask of nervousness, only his small silver rimmed glasses doing anything to hide it. Haha! Him nervous? I'm the one with the dead guy in my room, not him.

"Um. Do you need something," I asked rather rudely, if not ungraciously.

He whipped around from the window to stare at me bugeyed. "You, you can see me?" he asked waving his beefy hand right in front of my face. I rolled my eyes. How many freaking times had I been asked this before?

"Yea. So uh what do you need?" I asked, getting irritated.

He looked sad., I guess his death must've been quite the shock to him. "No one can see me. Except you. I think.. I think I might, well, possibly be dead?" His voice rose shakily at the end, inciting a question rather than a declarative.

The poor guy. I felt bad for him. No one wants to wake up, and realize they're not alive, no one. Unless you're like suicidal or something. And even so, most people wish they hadn't done it. It was his lucky day, I figured I'd cut him a break. "Uh sir-"

"Jonathon."

"Okay, Jonathon than, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but uh, you are. Dead I mean."

There. Straight and to the point. I couldn't have been anymore blunt had I put up a red neon sign that flashed, "Welcome to the Afterlife Johnny!" Blink,blink.

To say the least his round, bespectacled face drained of color, and for being a member of the undead, that's quite the feat.

"So what I want to know is, why are you still here?" I questioned, growing annoyed again. Maybe my dad was right, maybe I am being hormonal. These mood swings are enough to drive anyone crazy. Even a mediating ghost-busting freak like me. This whole crossing-over-going-into-the-light business just got old after awhile, and I just didn't want to deal with it anymore.

Mr. Ghostie looked quite confused. "What do you mean why am I here?"

I stood up off my bed, and turned my back on him grunting to myself in frustration. "Well you can either be here A- because you didn't know you were dead, or B- you have unfinished business. I'm guessing you just didn't know you were. So now you know and you can be on your way."

God, I am such a bitch sometimes.

I jumped back into bed and started rifling through a magazine. He stayed where he was in deep thought. He was sort of an idiot, but I guess I did feel sorta bad. The poor guy just found out he died. I'd be sad too. Well not really, if being dead meant not seeing ghosts anymore. But who was I kidding? I would go from seeing ghosts, to maybe being one. I didn't like the odds.

After about ten minutes of convincing him he couldn't stay in the realm of the living he evaporated. That's the only way I could describe it. Some ghosts seem to evaporate while others just sorta poof out of existence. Still, others do the whole light-beaming-down on them thing like Patrick Swayze in "Ghost." But this guy just evaporated.

To be honest, I was quite glad to be rid of this guy. He was sort of depressing, and I was in a bad enough mood as it was. I decided to read Seventeen again. I was scanning my way through an article titled "5 Sure Signs He's into You" and had just started another on how Lindsay Lohan had gotten thrown in jail, yet again when another "spectral friend" paid me a house call.

"Ugh, now what?" I silently groaned to myself. This time it was a woman in what appeared to be her late twenties. She wore spandex leggings, and a windbreaker. Her flash of red hair was pulled back by a headband.

"Uh can I help you?" I once again asked quite rudely.

She looked at me and spoke in a rush. "Hi. You must be the one, the one who can see us."

"Oh now what gave that away," I retorted, trying to concentrate on Lindsay's DUI.

She seemed unfazed. "Look I need you to give my husband a message for me."

Oh god. This was the worst kind of encounter with a ghost. Some go willingly, and some go fighting until I have to like have a séance to get them away. But the worst encounters are when they need you to send a message to the living. I've gotten in more trouble sneaking around,breaking in, and getting caught then I care to explain. And who believes a teen aged girl when you tell them their like dead uncle visited you? No one, until you tell something that only the deceased could've known..

"Uh, sure, but can you make this quick, I'm trying to read here and I have a lot of-"

"You look like your moping if you ask me." Wow, way to drive the self pitying knife in deeper.

I opened my mouth to comment back, and closed it. I opened it again, but shut it once more. "Yea well, I hope you know spandex is totally out, and you look like a moron," was my wonderful comeback.

Could I be any lamer?

She rolled her eyes at me and went on. "Just tell my husband I did not cheat on him okay? It's been really hard on him, and I just want him to know."

I softened at the cheating part. I knew how hard that was.. "Sure I'll do what I can." She smiled,"Thanks a million." And with that she stepped into the "light." To bad she didn't tell me her husbands name or where to find him..

The rest of my night was normal. I tried decorating my dungeon of a room, and ignoring my idiot step-brothers rap blasting from 2 rooms down. He was such a pinhead. I vowed then and there to never step foot in his room. Who knows what the toxic fumes of his air would do to my lungs?

I tried to finish my magazine, but soon grew tired. I hurriedly brushed my teeth, and fell into a stupor. Maybe I'd get a full nights worth of rest tonight. Than again.. maybe not.

Sometime around 2 in the morning I felt vaguely aware I was being watched again, (and for being asleep, that's saying something. Call it my sharpened ghost-busting intuition.) I sat bolt upright in bed and caught my stalker off guard.

"Okay pal, what's the big idea. I know you were the one watching me earlier," I said with a yawn. It was only until I opened my lazy eyes that I noticed just who I was dealing with.

Standing next to my bookshelf going through the titles was the hottest dead guy I'd ever seen. Seriously. He was tall, probably about 6 foot, and he was built. Not really big but not scrawny either. He had black hair that was a bit on the longer side, and the most perfect, gorgeous brown ey- I mean brown eyes. He wore faded black dress pants, black shoes, and a white button down shirt. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top so you could see a good deal of his finely chiseled chest, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He was the most gorgeous guy in the world, or the spectral world.

He looked rather unabashed. "Yea I was curious. I knew you could sense me. You're the first human to see me in over 90 years." This took me by surprise. I was to distracted by his good looks to answer though. He looked so..alive. (That's another problem with ghosts, I'll like be at a store buying toilet paper, or razors for my mom, and a ghost will start a conversation with me, so here we are talking and the register guy will be like, "Uh miss who are you talking to?" It's only then that I realize he's dead so no one can see him but me. Then I feel like an idiot.)

"Look mister stalker man,it's like 2AM, and I'm starting school in the morning. I need sleep. I'd love to chat about your hauntings, and all but I'm out. Peace." I then rolled over, and turned my back on him. About two seconds later I felt like an ass, so I sat back up to apologize but he was gone. Just my luck.

"Oh joy," I muttered. "I finally get a hot guy to talk to me,and I kick him out. Good job spaz. Ugh.

Sometimes I really feel like the invisible one. It's pretty pathetic.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

I didn't sleep at all that night. I was to worked up over my encounter with whatever his name was. I also had another visit from a "friend" that night.

This time it was a child. That's always the hardest for me. It's so sad because they are just so innocent, you'd never expect them to die so young.

He came to me about an hour after the hot ghost left. I could tell he was extremely sad, and I couldn't imagine what was keeping such an innocent person trapped here. He was maybe 6 or 7, and wearing worn out blue jeans and a T-shirt that had Spongebob on it. I knew this is what he was wearing when he died.

That's another thing about ghosts, whatever you see them in is what hey died in. It's sort of like looking at a picture; the clothes you have on in the picture never change. Very depressing if you love shopping as much as I do. I hope to god when I die I pass straight through. None of this same outfit crap for me.

He stood at the side of my bed watching me. That's what awoke me, the feeling of being watched. I was so startled I yelped out loud, and half fell out of bed. I may have been able to see ghosts, but they always startled me in the middle of the night.

I pasted a smile on my face, and looked at him. "Hey there. What's your name?"

"Billy," he sad quietly. The sadness in his voice was enough to break anyones heart. He was an adorable boy. He had light brown hair and big blue eyes. He would've been quite the looker when he got older.

"Well hi Billy, I'm Kristy," I said faking cheerfulness. His eyes searched my own looking sad as ever. He didn't deserve this. "Is there something you want to tell me?" I asked as gently and quietly as I could. I could hear someone moving around in the bathroom down the hall, so I had to be extra quiet. He nodded his head. "Ok sweetie, what is it?"

He looked at me in a strange way. I think he trusted me but was hesitant to tell a stranger one of his secrets. "Could you please tell mommy I love her. And tell her not to forget to feed Crush." That damn near killed me. I felt like crying for this poor little boy and his family.

"Sure hun, I'll tell her, what's your mommy's name, and who is Crush?"

He looked like someone was squeezing his heart. "He's my hamster. I don't want mommy to forget to feed him while I'm gone."

I looked down into his eyes and smiled. "Of course I'll let her know."

After saying that he smiled broadly and took a step back from me. His body began to grow vague, and light up like a Christmas tree. And then in a flash of brilliant light he was gone. I knew he'd be much happier now where ever he was. Most likely heaven or some other place just as good.

With that thought I drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

School the next day was a disaster, to put it mildly. I overslept due to my sleep, or lack there of. Dad was working in his new office today, and Carol was at her shop, ( she owns her own flower shop ahem "boutique". Seriously, she calls it a boutique) so that left Jake the flake. I assumed he'd be taking me every day since he only had afternoon classes at the local University.

That car ride was pretty much hell. He yelled at me for adjusting the seat, yelled for touching his "precious" radio, and then complained I had the window down to low, since his car is ancient, and the glass was falling out. Once I got to school though, things seemed picked up again.

I now attended St.Augustine Catholic High School. Lucky me. This place was all religion, all the time. They wear uniforms here. Ugly, plaid monstrosities. They also wear saddle shoes. OH you heard me. Saddle shoes. Now I'm not the most religious person there is. I occasionally go to church, but I do pray regularly, so I wasn't surprised to find statues of Mary, and crucifixes on the walls. I was however slightly bummed when I found out how many nuns worked here. Yea, nuns. Shoot me now please?

I later found that they had nicknames. The lunch lady nun was called Sr. Kitchen, and the assistant principal Sr. Scary. Harsh I know, but if I wanted to retain what little normalcy I had here I had to go along with it.

I walked to class alone, and had 5 minutes to burn so I thought I'd run to the caf, and buy a bottled water for the rest of the day when I saw this totally hot guy smiling at me. I looked around for signs of some other female life form, but nope it was me he was looking at! This mega gorgeous guy had blonde hair, green eyes, and a killer smile with dimples. He walked toward me, and it was like watching a movie where your dream man floats to you- he was that hot and his stride somehow, that floaty. He started waving, so naturally I went to wave back, until I heard her voice.

"Hey Mark!: yadda yadda yadda.

Shit. Here I thought I'd get lucky for once. Ugh. Wait.. I knew that voice.

It couldn't be could it? I pulled my half wave into a fixing-my-hair-nothing-to-be-embarrassed- about thing, and turned around. Bad move.

"Hello Kris-ten. I heard you'd be coming here this year," came the snotty voice or mega-bitch, and my arch-enemy Lauren Powers.

"Lauren," I said smiling through gritted teeth, "I didn't know you went here."

"Yea, unfortunately for you. My dad's the computer directer here."

I laughed. "Oh your daddy is the computer teacher?"

She glared murderously. "No dipshit, he's the dor-ect-tor. So you had better stay out of my way., and stay away from Mark, he's my man," Lauren threatened.

With that she tossed her glossy, long black hair over her shoulder, and sauntered off with this Mark guy. What a tool. In truth- we hadn't been friends since the 4th grade when on Halloween she stole my cupcake.

FLASHBACK

I was sitting with Jenny Walters talking about our Halloween costumes.

"Yea!" Jenny smiled happily. "I'm going as the mermaid for Halloween!"

"You mean the little mermaid?" I asked.

She giggled her little kid giggle, "Yep that's it. Hey Kristy? Is that Lauren over there eating you're cupcake?"

I turned around, and saw her licking the orange frosting off of it. Whoa. Big mistake. No one eats my cupcakes and gets away with it!

I marched up to her and looked her right in the eyes. "What do you think you're doing? That's mine!" I felt my lip quiver.

She licked a particularly large glob of frosting off her fingers,"not anymore." That ticked me off. I was outraged. Being 9 years old, and having someone steal my Halloween cupcake. It just wasn't fair!

I socked her one right in her eye, and sadly earned my first of many well deserved detentions. All little miss Lauren had to do was cry, and magically no trouble for her. She became my mortal enemy that day.

end flashback

So we've had a mutual hating since. But I still say it's her fault. She stole it in the first place. I knew right then this year was going to suck, and I'd have to watch out for her, and the ghosts.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

The rest of my week passed without further incident. School- was boring. Home- was boring. Everything basically- was boring. I hadn't seen that ghost in the last four days. Not that I was counting or, waiting for him, or anything...

It was now Friday night. As usual, I was laying on my bed. This time on my back, with my head hanging off the end of my bed. I sighed, "I.have.no.life." It was right around then I noticed a male standing once again near my bookcase. I jumped up and grinned. It was him.

"Hi." I heard the tremor, even in my voice. This was to weird. I was scared of him? No way.

He looked up at me from a book titled, "A Certain Slant of Light". "Hello."

"So what are you doing here? Or do you just like my room, and all the orangyness?" I quipped, making up for my lack of anything relevant, or remotely interesting to say. Was I intimidated by him? No, that's impossible, I don't do intimidation, I dish it out.

He spoke in a deep soothing voice, almost what the consistency of liquid velvet would be, had that been possible. He smiled shyly, "No, I came to return this," he held up a book. (that's another random fact about ghosts, they can pass right through people, and objects while at the same time they can pick items up it basically defies all logic) I cast him a very strange, long look, never quite meeting his eyes. In his faintly glowing hand he held "Catcher in the Rye," by J.D. Salinger. "Well now that I have returned this I shall go."

I thought wildly for one moment he would leave on the spot, and never come back. "No, wait!"

He looked at me again, blinking through long,thick black lashes. "Yes?"

"Well I have a few questions for you, ya know. Standard Operating Mediator Procedure." What.the.hell? What the hell did I just say? Standard..what? Oh my god, I am such a dumbass.

He smiled, "Of course you do," and rerolled the sleeves on his shirt. His forearms looked extremely strong, and sexy. And that smile sent shivers down my spine. Why must he be dead?

He moved closer to me, and sat in the easy chair I had placed purposely next to the bookshelf.

"Well first things first," I said getting down to business. "What's you're name?"

"James Hensley."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty and a quarter," he smirked sexily at me.

"Do you prefer aisle or window seat?"

To say the least, he looked confused. He dragged a hand through his mess of black hair, and it trailed down his neck. Lucky hand..

HA! That'll teach him to smirk like that at me! "Dude chill, it was a joke," I laughed. He smiled shyly once again, but was unsure of what the "joke" part was. This made me laugh again. "Ok Jamesy why are you here?" my voice trailed off as I watched him stand, and go to look out my bay window. His, uh, backside, I noticed, was nearly as nice as his front side. I swallowed hard.

"I don't know, to be honest."

"Um okay, so you don't know why you are standing in my room and stealing my books?"

He turned back to face me, and smiled a blindingly white smile, "I thought you meant why am I earthbound."

I stared at him as if I was seeing a ghost, pardon the pun. I decided to get down to business. "Okay Sir James how long have you been hanging around?" He looked solemn. I felt bad. And stupid. I was being a bitch to the most gorgeous guy I'd ever lain eyes on. What was my deal anyways?

"1912," his deep, smooth-as-glass hit me ten fold. I had to sit.

I figured that's why he was dressed in classy clothes. "Oh wow, so you've been around practically forever than."

He looked at me, and blinked. " I had no idea 96 years, and forever were the same thing," his cool, deep voice dripped with sarcasm.

I glared, but ended up laughing. Jeez, first he's hot now he's funny, this is bad. "So you have no idea why you're here then." It was a statement rather than question. "Why are you in my house?"

"It was my house first Ms. Harding," he pointed out. I felt stupid. He was the type of guy that by simply correcting you, could make you feel stupid, and have you mentally beating yourself for a week. I didn't want to feel stupid in front of him, I wanted to impress him.

"Ok never call me that again. It's Kris. And you lived here?" He nodded and strode over to my books again. He seemed to like to read. Sexy, funny, and intelligent. I'm in deep trouble.

I sat in thoughtful silence for a few moments. "You must've died here if that's why you're stuck here."

He looked up from the cover of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, "Yes I did actually," sounding as if it were absurd to have died anyplace else. "And I'm not stuck here, I go out to many places."

I was unnerved by the simple way he spoke of his death. Like it was of no bother to him. It unnerved me, and more than ever I felt like the idiot I was when he looked at me like I was a crazy. He stared at me expectantly, "May I borrow this?" I nearly laughed (nearly), but Carol was calling from somewhere downstairs.

"I'll be down in a minute," I yelled at the top of my lungs. "Yea sure."

He smiled his ghostly smile. "Thank you," he said sounding sincere, beginning to shimmer away.

" Wait! Will you be back anytime soon?"

He became a solid again and looked at me, his black-brown eyes appraising me. "As soon as I finish this." I looked at the thickness of it, knowing he wouldn't be back for a few days. The thought annoyed me. More than it should, he was, after all, just a ghost.

"Kristin get down here now!"

I looked at him. "Ugh I have to go. I'll see you soon." I sprang off my bed, and made my way to the door, but by the time I turned back he was gone. I could really kill that damn Carol right now.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Saturday morning it was raining. I sat on the couch in the family room wrapped in blankets trying to watch a movie. Nothing was on but Halloween crap since it was October. I was randomly flipping through channels when I landed on "The Sixth Sense."

"Ha, now there's coincidence for ya." I snorted in contempt, but tossed the remote next to me, feeling to noncommittal to change the station.

"How so?" came a high pitched voice from the kitchen. In walked Justin my 13-year-old step brother. He's no where near as bad as Jake so I didn't care if he watched the movie with me.

I muttered a quick, "nothing," and asked if he wanted to watch with me. He nodded eagerly, and sauntered into the kitchen to make popcorn to enhance our "viewing pleasures"

The effects in the movie were to say the least, cheap, annoying, and totally unrealistic. For one, when you see a ghost you can never tell how they died. In this movie that had like people throwing up, and bloody chicks. Nuh uh.

"I see dead people!" came the little boys frightened voice.

Ha ha. "So do I kid," I laughed bitterly to myself.

After the movie ended, I decided I needed to go out. Dad, Carol, and the other two went out for dinner, but I wanted to stay home. I was about to call my friend Shannon with plans, when who other than James appeared.

"Hello Kristen."

I smiled. "It's Kris, and hey yourself Jamsey. Waddup doe?"

He looked at me as if I were speaking a foreign language. To him though, I guess I was. "Haha hey, how's it going?" Comprehension dawned on his handsome face. I shivered. I knew this was bad. I didn't even get feelings like this from the living; this guy was dead. I couldn't be liking him. Nope. I refused to believe I was. I chalked my shiver up as being cold from his "otherworldly" presence.

I asked if he wanted to hang around with me. He did. He had finished the Harry Potter book, and was thrilled to find out they were making movies about them. I laughed, and put the first one in the DVD player, feeling extremely self conscious my rear was sticking up in the air for him to see. I probably should start my Pilates again.. I hurried back to the sofa, and hit the Menu button. Instantly, the Harry Potter "theme song" if you will,began playing, and James got very excited. Come to find he had never watched a movie before. James excited, was an extremely good image. His face flushed and his eyes lit up, something extremely hard for a dead man to do, but he did. It's almost as if he wasn't. Dead, I mean.

I sat next to him on the sofa, and found myself scooting closer, and closer to him by the minute. I half hoped maybe he'd put his arm around me, in fact, most of the movie was spent watching him, and praying to God he'd move that arm to lay across my shoulders. But, if he noticed he didn't say anything. I think he was just to engrossed in the movie.

Men.

The rest of my weekend was way me boring than that rainy afternoon. I decided to head over to the library on Sunday to find out more about this house we moved into, and why James was haunting it. My dad was at some meeting,( as per usual) and Carol at her shop, so the only car left was Jakes. I voted for riding my bike.

The library was an old, small building. Dark ivy covered the gray stone walls, and huge trees had overgrown, and covered the windows. It was a little creepy actually. I walked in and got directions to the archives. Well..tried to.

"You want to see archives?" an old, bent over librarian with half moon glasses asked. I nodded trying not to show my impatience, and even offered to see microfiche. She raised an eyebrow. I think she was almost suspicious of me. "Why would a young girl want to see old papers about the town? Shouldn't you be doing your homework, or mending something?"

Yep, definitely suspicious, and quite possibly senile. Mending? What is this the 1800s?

"Uh, it's for a school project. It's very important I see anything from the early 1900s involving the town. I'm writing a paper." This seemed to change her mind, so she gave the directions. "Make a left down the hall, go down the two flights of stairs, and then make a right. I thanked her and followed what she said. Her directions led me straight to the basement.

Figures.

The room was really dusty, and it looked as if no one had been down here in years. Until I flipped the light switch on. There was a trail leading to a filing cabinet. I didn't pay any attention to it.

"Hey Kris." I shrieked, and jumped into the air dropping the papers I had picked up off a table. " James what the fu- I mean what are you doing here?"

He lowered himself gracefully, with an ease no one but that of the undead could have, into a wooden chair, and smiled. "I followed you. I was lonely at home, and thought I'd see what you were up too."

"Following people around, and not letting them know is called stalking which is ill-e-gal," I emphasized, trying to hide the fast I was extremely happy he was lonely, and sought me out for company. Not like he had much of a choice who he hung with, I thought miserably. But still, I was thrilled he was interested in what I was doing!

"What _are _you doing?" He asked.

Busted. I didn't want him to know I was searching for info on his life. That would turn the stalkee into the stalker..weird how that happens. "I was just looking up stuff about the house. You know, just curious." I gave a nervous laugh. If he was suspicious of anything I said he gave no sign of it. He helped me look around for a while, whistling as he went along. Yea, whistling.

We must have gone over every inch of that room. I looked through stacks upon stacks of anything that had his name. I found photos of the town back in 1912 but nothing on the house. The last thing to look through was that filing cabinet. I flipped through the files on different families until I came to the spot where his was supposed to be. But his was missing.

It then dawned on me that that was the reason the cabinet had been open. But why would someone want James' file? Why would anyone care? It's not like anyone could see him but me...

I looked up from the empty space where his file had been, and peered into his face. "Uh James.. is there any particular reason anyone would steal your families file?"

"No idea," he muttered, only half paying attention to me, He had gotten his hands on some dusty old tome, and was devouring it with unprecedented speed.

"That makes no sense, no one knows you're around but me, and this entire place hasn't been used in years, why would anyone come in here, and only take information on you, and my house?"

He looked up from his book, and stared confusedly at me. "I don't know. You're the only one that can see me..right?"

I stood there staring at him wondering the exact same thing.


End file.
